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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐

@putrefactions.bsky.social
3.2K followers 237 following 10K posts

haunted house of lore, gore, & more : NSFW 🔞🩸 [ he : ⚷ ] [ icon & header credit : patsux, nordek ]

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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 02/10/2026
love, love, love open sea design co. their protection cards have become a beloved part of my practice.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 02/10/2026
boy harsher [OCT1]
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 29/09/2026
danse. for @funeralportrait.bsky.social
In a ballroom packed full of the realm's riches, he chose her. Not the courtier with the lavish braid that hanged down to his hips nor the dowager with her stiff widow's peak, but her. She was a white hare in the steel jaw trap of his gloved hands where they seized her, first at the wrists for a customary kiss at her palms and then at her waist. It did not matter how delicate he was with his preamble to lead. Every touch felt like a puncture wound. 

"You seem beggarly without the room's eyes to cover you." He hummed and she blushed as if the words had cut her across the cheeks. Red rushed to her face and into her chest as she was spun out into the heart of the room by his cold hands. His serpentine voice tickled the parts of her where shame lived.

"Fret not, girl, your lord will see you properly dressed and put center stage where you belong.”  

"Where I belong," she thought to herself hypnotically as the handsome musician moved and made an aria out of her.

Every step, every breath, every turn in the weight of her gown seemed to twist the room and all of its attendants towards the prima donna. Their faces became a blur as the count waltzed her through the throng, the hair of a magistrate smearing into the eyes of a mother. Bustles became tricorn hats which became the dark parting of lips framed with shocks of waxy color. It was a dizzying battlefield of costumed corpses twisted in indecipherable, painted gore. She shuddered at the explosion of satin and braced for skull fragments made of lace. A star was born in the cataclysm of gaiety and it was her. 

A lifetime of breath control slipped her mind and hollowed her out as she slumped into her captor, her host, her benefactor. Tucked in his shadow and the blinding glow of her own starry pride, she was ignorant to the tall mirror as they danced past it. 

Where two figures ought to have been, nothing but the faint outline of a ghost filled the frame.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 29/09/2026
she gave us the receipts herself!
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 29/09/2026
monoskop.org/images/7/75/...
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 29/09/2026
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 29/09/2026
from madonna's "sex," 1992
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 27/09/2026
spider from the anchorhold. c : @ penrevekether #walkelincomms
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 27/09/2026
spider from the anchorhold. c : @ penrevekether #walkelincomms
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 22/09/2026
goodmorning. and what is he requesting for breakfast?
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 22/09/2026
I love her so much.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 21/09/2026
from"love bondage gallery," issue 15, 1990
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/09/2026
you are so cool
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/09/2026
ads for trans personals, 1990
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/09/2026
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/09/2026
m. butterfly david cronenberg, 1993
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/09/2026
ray frederick coyle, 1929.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 18/09/2026
thank you, I am so glad you enjoyed it. I patiently await the picking!
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 18/09/2026
tea party. for @seraphendra.bsky.social
On well-behaved days, the castle was a sensible body. The great foyer its mouth with columns like teeth, its central stairwell a tongue that lead towards a dining room for a stomach. Myriad corridors branched like veins to service all of its rooms like cold fingers and toes, pumping its seldom visitors through dusty parlors and aortic halls of mirrors. It was easy to miss the channels that might lead one to the library, great conservatory, baths, or music rooms, instead tumbling guests out into the thick, dark potential space of its cavities. Easier yet if the castle misbehaved. It was in its very architectural nature, from its neurotic angles to its queasy heights, to be naughty. 

Like a child wanting for more time at play, it kept the guest in the dark. She was invited down a hallway that never ended, the only passage of time marked by locked doors at intervals of two minutes glimpsed faintly by the doorknobs shine. It was as chilly and scentless as a tomb as she walked over the nerve towards a destination unknown. It was the pilgrimage that made the faithful, afterall. 

The castle's agitated synapse sputtered in excitement, the floor beneath her heels convulsing with the pressure on its presence. It was first a fit of undulating black mass like a river of insects crawling in uniform formation over an unseen hunk of meat or pile of leaves. Next a gentle tide formed a foamy cascade around her ankles, pleasantly warm despite the eternal winter she had slipped inside from. Last was a blind battlefield of charred carcasses, each one identical in its unidentifiable mass, one stacked over the other in shallow piles of offal and soot. 

There was no smell but the faint breeze of smoke, though not like a crematory or mass grave. Lapsang Souchong, that smoked tea imported from the east in crates of pine like little infant caskets. An entire silver pot of it, steaming on a table behind a door at the end of the hall. 

It opened with a creak for a smile.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 18/09/2026
mask. for @circeus.bsky.social
The evening appointment was filled by a shadow. Beneath the apothecary window, its keep watched the masked figure take the shape of a barque as he crossed the thoroughfare, cutting through the crowd as a prow would the sea. By the time he had ascended the stairwell and reached the shop door, he was a far more imposing shape like that of a gallows or some terrifying escarpment to fall from. Walkelin raised his head in intrigue towards the precipice. 

It was not often he was tasked with transmutation. If he were to abide by the old songs, it was as easy as tying a braid of hay around an apple and leaving it for the witches in hopes something else might take its place. The alchemists had hardly done better by their formulas in their unending quest to turn silver into gold. Yet if there was any process that could transform a silhouette into man, a pile of secrets into something to touch, Walkelin possessed it. 

He could have offered a vial of salts — stimulating when inhaled in short puffs — or mimicked the human soul through musk and offered it as an intoxicating cologne by dram.  It would have been similarly easy to slick a poison on a rapier’s tip. Instead he offered only himself this night, as if one mask could humanize another. The spymaster looked back towards the hearth. This was a different kind of business.

"Come," Walkelin said as he stepped off the ledge into the stranger's darkness, plummeting towards that unforgiving bottom where man lurked, "I have been expecting you."
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 17/09/2026
barista. for @sentientcloud.bsky.social
Few things protected one’s privacy more than the position of barkeep, especially those who served coffee. With the loosening of trade restrictions and the wallets of gentry, the city had flooded with a pungent, brown river of the stuff to rival the gutters. It rushed into every salon and filled every cup at the center of good gossip. Anyone who tasted it smelled of it, too. Rich notes of chocolate, bitter fruit, and the sweet smell of frothed milk betrayed where exactly a lady had spent her afternoon, or how desperate the magistrate's clerk was to get his late work done. But for the barkeep it was a mask of anonymity. By days end she smelled of nowhere and nothing but the carafe and its hot, fragrant steam. Her natural essence had been replaced by lactones, that ripe smell of milk pushed deep into the pores of her nose, her brow, the corner of her lips. Regardless what she said, every word reeked of “how may I help you, may I be of service, is everything alright? ”

There was no room in the apothecary for two to play the same role, its carpeted stage much too small for two servants. Walkelin finished his work at the organ and handed her a small, silver dish of solid perfume which glistened in the parlor's low light. 

Capric acid from goats milk, though surprisingly human. Labdanum resinoid. Ambrette seed. Furfural. Vanillin from lignin, that sweet sigh of death from a plant cell wall. It was altogether the smell of a warm hand grasped gently onto a book, sweat and ink gathered tastefully between the fingers. It was her, the poet, for when she had forgotten herself in a smile and some other’s cup of coffee.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 17/09/2026
maroon alcea. for @antaresxiv.bsky.social
The flower, though beautiful, was meritless in perfume. Its deep red blooms like clusters of sores and gaping wounds implied its better use in healing, however, and so each head of the hollyhock was trimmed neatly by shear and placed in a jar of cool water. By morning the glass had been transformed into a brilliant lantern, infused with the light of an overcast day and the gruesome ink of the petal. It was the same color of glass that hanged overhead the holy icons and glittered around the brazier of each brothel door. It was the color of the body, and by the thick mucilage of the flower's head would it return. At the sound of approaching footfall, the demulcent slime was poured into a flacon of stiff alcohol and bundled in a shift of satin. A piece of folded parchment was wedged between with the apothecary's controlled hand centered on the page. 

"For relief of that which aches, apply as salve or take as spirit. May you brace to find succor in its shiver and sting."
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 16/09/2026
the decameron, 1971
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 15/09/2026
ꄗ character — walkelin ꄗ setting — apothecary ◊ prompt — share a character and receive a [written] item as crafted by his hand { perfume, poison, or other salve for the soul }
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 15/09/2026
𓉸 character — verrot 𓉸 setting — the castle quarter 🝤 prompt — share a character and receive a [written] experience as to what could be encountered on his grounds { phantasmagoria, haunted objects, death himself }
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 16/09/2026
black narcissus, 1947
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 16/09/2026
her fluidity : as in ever persevering, ever changing, moving the way stars move and the way time moves. nothing ever stagnates or collects dust with saesha, he is always resplendent and glimmering like water, always going somewhere, always dancing towards some new horizon.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 16/09/2026
his presence, both visually and narratively. one feeds into the other. his contrast to both environs and characters creates a kind of centripetal force where things seem to gravitate around him, effortlessly : less a main character demanding center stage, more eye of a storm or cosmic object.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 15/09/2026
ꄗ character — walkelin ꄗ setting — apothecary ◊ prompt — share a character and receive a [written] item as crafted by his hand { perfume, poison, or other salve for the soul }
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 15/09/2026
𓉸 character — verrot 𓉸 setting — the castle quarter 🝤 prompt — share a character and receive a [written] experience as to what could be encountered on his grounds { phantasmagoria, haunted objects, death himself }
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/08/2026
ok but shes really so you, this was your dragon egg
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/08/2026
I am very sick. so I have picked time with art, books, work, and those I love over the scratchy, wooly wear of social media. I have become hard to reach. "what lies ahead, unseen," was the question : it feels right to share the 10 of cups with you. be well and weird and full of what pleases you.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 20/08/2026
tentatively reactivating for archival and repository purposes.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 10/07/2026
roadside sign said “don’t worry baby everything’s going to be alright”
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 10/07/2026
friday
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 10/07/2026
he goes through periods where it is crowded full of glassware, compacts, ampoules. his frequent upsets will see some of them tossed, smashed, when he thinks they no longer suit him, or believe them to be gifted out of pity, or he goes (even more) nose-blind to a smell. the cycle repeats.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 10/07/2026
absolutely. the seals are adjoined to porcelain knobs and handles of his own creation. he is a bit stingy on the wax, however, as he rarely finds others worth the expense of color-code.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 10/07/2026
of public persona. to be feared and sought after in equal measure. to be skilled without compare. but marion is far less skilled at handling noble burden and less emotionally stalwart to endure. he [is] the dorian gray. that is how he will be remembered.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 10/07/2026
the pedant says, "of course not, there is no dorian gray in his universe." it is far more likely that an author might write a similar tale loosely inspired by verrot, who marion has a childlike obsession with (good, bad) . he has tried and failed miserably to fashion himself similarly in terms
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Shin-ichi Sakamoto @14mountain.bsky.social · 10/07/2026
2024.12.1
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 09/07/2026
thursday checkpoint. how are you — how have you been?
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𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂⁠. 𓆩♡𓆪 @dailyrunway.bsky.social · 09/07/2026
daisy edgar-jones (and george mackay) for british vogue in another beautiful work by photographer szilveszter makó. styling by tabitha simmons.
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nessie🦢 @lambkin.bsky.social · 09/07/2026
la religieuse ✞ (1966)
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 08/07/2026
hands you this very gently
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 08/07/2026
two thousand dollars per infusion even after insurance. humiliation ritual.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 05/07/2026
I love the variance, and yet I can see the connective tissue between them : the colors, spirit. always touched to see people's decks.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 04/07/2026
for me, and for you.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 04/07/2026
I long for a life more strange with less struggle.
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 01/07/2026
and on the fifth day the lord said let there be zora 🙏
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🝤 unfortunate mage ◐ @putrefactions.bsky.social · 01/07/2026
oh he's been loathed for a long time but he's always been adored by me. I remember forum arguments about his character that are old enough to vote now.
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